The Art of Deception
by tothestarsandmoon
Summary: What happens when the war is done? When all that hope, confusion and anger is gone, and all you have left is that feeling of emptiness? You forget how much two years of hurt and betrayal can change a person. Takes place after the Scarlet Guard finally is able to spread equality for all. They should be celebrating, but what is Cal and Mare to do with the forgotten prince?
1. Titanium (1)

**Disclaimer: SPOILERS to the end of the first book of Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard.**

The explosions sounded all through the area. It seems fitting to say the least that we're ending similar to how we began; with Cal and I once again teaming up in a fight to the death. But now not as the prey, but as hunters. We spilt apart, with Cal cornering Elara, and I, Maven. It's a pitying thing really, the look of horror on his face as sparks of lightning radiate out of me. Now he's the complete opposite of the king he once was, standing tall and watching the amusement Cal and I had put on; for now it's his turn to _be_ the show. We hear Elara's crys for mercy from Cal, who only needs one more pulse of fire to finish her off. The look on his face is one I have seen a million times before; when he's not just Cal but when he's a warrior, a solider, a surviver, all of which scare me.

My attention turns back to Maven who is building up his fiery wall, in an effort to keep me out. We had allowed them to at least have a small fighting chance, not like how they did to us. The choice wasn't made out of compassion for the two, god no, it was made out of strength, to show that unlike them, we still have our pride. To let them die with the little honor that they still have for themselves before we end their miserable lives. For we like to win with dignity.

My electricity and Maven's fire collide ending in a great eruption of flames and light. His bright, blue eyes illuminates and for a second I think I see the boy I once knew, the boy I had once loved, trusted. The boy who turned out to become a sorry excuse for a man. As my lightning strikes the ground near his feet, he jumps, his powers are growing weak, no match for mine anymore. I almost chuckle at the thought, a Silver at a loss for a Red, well that's just unheard of. But then again, everything is surprising these days.

In the background you hear Cal yelling at Elara, for the many reasons for which had led us here to this day. You can hear her sputtering and erratic breathing, her list of excuses, but then you hear a burst of fire and then silence. It's an eerie silence, the sound of death. I hold my breath a little, for the mighty Queen Elara, the one who raised a monster, the one with the many plans and visions, has finally befallen.

I now stand over Maven and look down since I can't miss the look on his face that should look like the one I had when my parents were killed, the one Cal had when Elara forced him to kill his father. But all I see a fainted, helpless boy with blood trickling down his nose and out of his ears. I kick the body to prod him to get up, to fight, to stop being the coward I know that he is. The result I get in return is the same.

I look over at Cal who still stands over Elara's body, the expression he has on his face is puzzling. It's as though he's reliving their life together; it must not be a happy one. His eyes catches mine in a wave of red-gold that warms me. He looks down to see Maven on the ground and his face hardens completely. As he walks over his bracelet clicks again and fire rolls up along his arms, he's shielding himself even though he knows that Maven is in no condition to fight back. As he gets close enough to see the blood on Maven's face he freezes, stunned. I look at him, then back at Maven.

"I didn't get the chance to before he collapsed," I said. The disgust is oozing out of me, he has so much blood on his hands, yet when it comes time to spill his own he can't take it. I want to kill him right there on the spot, to end the life of the boy who reached for a crown that wasn't his to reach. But that would be too easy, no, I want a painful death, I want _revenge_. Or at least that's what my brain is telling me.

Cal does the same as I did and kicks the body, afraid that this is just a trick. It doesn't move. Trying to mask his trepidation, but not very well, he asks, "When did the bleeding start?". He kneels down to examine his forsaken brother's face.

"Around the same time Elara died," I say, not very sure why that's important.

Cal takes in a sharp breath, looks around at the cameras then back at me. His eyes are full of dread and his fire quickly disappears. "That's what I've been afraid of..." he mutters so softly I can barely hear. Before I can ask him what's wrong, he calls over a member of the Scarlet Guard and whispers something into his ear and leaves, with a face that is a mixture of agony, disbelief and overall hatred.

I run after him, "Cal," I grab his arm which tenses under my touch, "What's wrong?"

He looks like he doesn't know wether or not to cry or lash out. I feel his pulse which is beating so fast I think it might burst. He doesn't answer but keeps moving, shaking off my hand and walking away from the bloody arena with his head bowed. You would expect that around this time when everything is almost over, he'd be celebrating.

More guards have now surrounded an area to which Maven, still breathing and pale, is unconscious. They mutter to themselves confused and apprehensive about approaching him. Though just nineteen, his mere presence makes grown men squirm. The man who Cal talked to earlier, Hartlet, barks orders to the others, pointing and yelling for them to find a healer.

I don't understand, why would they care about helping him? He should be happy if he was just thrown into a cell and is able because of his cowardliness, live to fight another day.

A young woman who goes by the name of Aara, comes a few minutes later, followed by some guards. She immediately kneels down and gets to work. Her quick and nimble fingers move over his body, touching all the places to which he has been injured, there had been many. Seeing him on the ground without his crown and royal clothes takes me back to when we were betrothed. When he was nothing more than the second prince, in the shadow of his brother and seemingly okay with that. He had dreams though, big dreams, but none of which were for his own sake. The moments we spent and the laughs we shared all came flooding back to me; along with the sharp pain I feel in my heart, which is enough to knock me back. _No,_ I thought, _not now, not ever. He's dead to you and don't you forget that._ _But it he's dead_ , my heart interjects, _they why do I still feel the pain? Why do I still hurt?_ One by one, with just the her mere touch, each injury is fixed. At least next time, I get to do it all over again, to damage him the way he's done to me. _No, that can never be done_ , for physical injuries heal, the ones he's done to me, don't.

When she's finished, she stands up and leaves, though she doesn't wake him up. I stand at a distance, looking on as Maven is brought back through the gate and into his cell in the Bowl of Bones. I look at the scene around me, but all I see is mass destruction. Hurting Maven was the goal of my plans all along, though achieving it did help somewhat, it doesn't bring back to me what was lost. I feel empty, hollow and most of all I feel pain. The promise that this would make me feel better was a lie, it just makes me feel like _him,_ like _Maven_. The thought that I'm anything like him makes my stomach churn, which is ironic considering my feelings. I push it away and looked down at my disheveled form. What am I to do?

 **So quick recap of what's going on: basically this is my version of what I would like to happen at the end of the Red Queen series. At this time, Mare and Cal have led the Scarlet Guard to victory against Maven who is currently being captured. As to Mare's and Cal's relationship; they have been through a lot in the past two years. They both lost their parents, been betrayed by someone they loved, and were on the run. Mare isn't exactly in a relationship with Cal per say, since you know they had a revolution to build but they do have some serious feelings for each other. She depends on him as she did to Maven, whom she still has a small soft spot for even through everything he's done to her. This makes Mare very conflicted and ashamed about her feelings as Maven has done some serious damage to her, yet the sight of him hurts her. As for chapter names, each chapter name is a theme song for that chapter. It's** **essentially relating to what each chapter is talking about / the 'vibes' it's giving off. If you listen to the lyrics you will see why.** **I don't own any rights to the book(s) or characters as that belongs to Victoria Aveyard, but some of the characters are mine. Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Save me from myself (2)

I still get them, the nightmares. Bombs blasting and guns shooting— the death, the noise, the chaos, and _I_ was leading it. The people in my dreams cry out for mercy, for a chance to live the life they never did. But in my alternate reality, I ignored them, killed them without a second thought. There's blood everywhere, red and silver, making elaborate splattering on the walls. I didn't hold my breath once, just _killed—_ but the worst part is the way I felt about it. It wasn't excitement, no it was more than that, it was joy, happiness, it was like killing brought me pride— thinking about it makes me sick. But just as dream me is about satisfied, all of my victims' faces suddenly morphed into Maven, and they just sat there, _looking_ back at me. Those blue eyes not filled with fear, like they did before, but with a surprisingly calm facade as though what I'm doing is just. They morph again, this time into snakes, hundreds of them, crawling, slithering, all around me. They're bodies sliding up and down mine until they all forge together into one, choking me. I try electrocuting it, nothing; stabbing at it, nothing; writhing under it, nothing. It's as though it's leeching off of my strength and focusing it on its intent to strangle me, to kill me for revenge.

This is around the time I wake up. I've been having the same exact dream for so long I can almost lucid dream whilst I'm in it. I say almost because if I had anything to do with it I'll never have it again. But for some reason it keeps coming back to me, as though as it's trying to tell me something. It started the night of when I last saw Maven, sickly pale, being brought back through the arena doors like a coward. Suppose this dream is to mean more than what it is, that it's somehow a sign or a reason why I'm feeling what I am; but i don't believe in superstitions.

It's been over a week, and Maven is still unconscious on the dirt floor of the cells, lying there like the vermin he is. We send in healers to speed up the process but they all come out confused and empty-handed. This is unheard of, healers can mend and fix the human body within seconds, but this _thing,_ this _dilemma,_ seemingly cannot _be_ fixed— or it simply does not want to be. He's not dead, we checked; and it's not a trick either, I checked. Cal comes by everyday but doesn't say anything, he just _looks_. Looks on at his little brother, the King Maven, who used to have everyone's respect and honor but is now just another ordinary boy whom no one cares for, his mother isn't here. He rarely shows his face anymore, doesn't show up to meetings and from what I've seen, doesn't even care enough to eat. _What is he hiding? What is he not telling me._ It must be something big for him to outright avoid me altogether. It also seems that he has just about everyone in the palm of his hand. Since just about everyone I ask, I receive the same useless excuse: "Biking."

Well he's been biking an awful lot.

* * *

While everyone's talking over the politics and land settlements, I prefer to be in the militia's arena running. It's always big and open, with not many distractions other than the training barracks and obstacle courses. There's usually no one out here around this time of day and I take that to my advantage. With the way the air whips around my ears and my hair flailing behind me, I can almost imagine I'm away from this whole mess only someone twisted would call as an excuse life. I let my mind paint an image of green trees and a long, narrow trail to which I am running on; it's beautiful in my mind, but also a scary one. If you dream too long you can get disappointed, disappointed with reality and long for something that merely doesn't exist— or seemingly cannot be. But still, despite my judgements, I do it from time to time and during those times I'm the most happiest. After a while my mind would get bored with the picture which causes it to think about unnecessary things that does me no good. Kilorn used to joke that not much goes on when I'm thinking, and the memory of him just makes me run faster. Last I saw him was when we invaded and attacked the castle for our chance at freedom, at life from being the oppressed. He was labeled MIA, and I haven't seen him since— the assult was a couple of months ago. _He could still be out there,_ I try to tell myself, or _maybe he's dead,_ another voice crys out, the reasonable one. My feet move faster under me and again I try to outrun my problems. He can't be, no he's Kilorn, he's a survivor, he had defied the odds before and came through it, no reason he can't defy this one. One thought leads to another and before I know it anxiety builds up and I have to shake my head to physically remove them. I look down at my feet and focus on my running: one feet in front of the other.

I can feel my feet wearing out but I keep going, it's a mental battle for me each time to fight even when I want to give up and can't fight anymore. For if I cannot fight for a simple task as to run, how can I fight when something bigger comes my way? But eventually I do have to stop, I don't like it, but I do. If I had it my way I'd be running forever and no one, not even myself, can stop me.`

* * *

As I return to my room, there's a note my pillow. " _Meet me in the garden."_ is sprawled on the card in loopy handwriting. Immediately I know that it's Cal, by way he writes his "e"s and "a"s. Part of me is angry that he waited this long before trying to contact me, but another is curious to what he has planned. We promised each no secrets no matter what, but it seems as though he isn't any good as to keeping promises.

After a quick change and shower, I make my way through the many passages that leads to the outdoors. Before, when I had just arrived here, I would've been lost without help. Now after studying and memorizing floor plans for the past year, it's as though I grew up here. My feet is acting as though it has a mind of its own and after a few quick twists and turns I can already start to smell the flowers that are blooming for the springtime. I inhale deeply and every sense within me is suddenly reaching it's height. As I walk out to the middle of the garden, there's a small music box in the center just waiting to be played. Seeing it takes me back to the room filled with moonlight where Cal and I shared our first kiss, no doubt that's exactly what he wanted me to do. Laughing, knowing immediately what he has up his sleeve, I turn around to see Cal walking out towards me with a bundle of flowers and an expression as to say that he's sorry. He kneels and pretends to be offering the bouquet as if it was of upmost importance.

I teased reaching for the flowers, "Well, what have you got here?" They were lilies, my favorite. The thought and smell of them reminds me of simpler times as a kid with Gisa trying desperately to have some bit of beauty in our lives, although ultimately failing.

"Look I know that I've been avoiding you, things have been," he looks at his feet, "complicated." His face is still hard as last I remembered it.

"Really? Well I haven't noticed." I don't intend to let him off the hook that easy.

"Mare I—"

"Tell me what's going on." No response. Cal just looks at me in a way that makes me know that _something_ is up. "Cal," I say more softly.

"Why don't we just dance." he responds bending down to turn on the music box. It's even the same song. He takes my hand and steps into place, turning into the prince I haven't seen for years. The one that was all dances and formality, the one that was about following the rules even though in his heart he knows it's the wrong decision. He starts leading the way and I reluctantly drop the subject and dance along. It's nice dancing under the breeze, when the clouds are out but not all the way that they cover the sun.

"I've had a good teacher," I say trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles ominously but the mood doesn't change, worst even. The steps feel heavier and the footing clumsier, the song may be the same and so is the dance but this doesn't mean that everything else is. It's a different city, a different place, a different _time_ anda different us. We've grown up with too many battle scars and matured to a point that no one our age should be. We try keep in time to the music nonetheless and let our cares fall away. But in my heart I know that we can never go back to who we once were, and reliving memories will do us no good. So, we cherish this moment and watch the birds chirp and the ducks swim in the pond. They probably don't have the slightest clue as to what had happened around their own little home, or the amount bloodshed that had been spilled barely just a walk away. All they really know is their own life, one of leisure and happiness, belongs in the pond with their young. Unexpectedly, I found myself jealous of ducks. _Must be nice_ , I thought, _to have that much ignorance._

* * *

His awakening breath wakes up the guard at the other end of the hall. Eyes filled with fear, with angst, looks around as to locate where he was. As soon as he realized what is going on and is able to adjust, he holds out his hand in front of his face and formed a fist. He then opened it, then closed it again, a smile soon spreads. Patting down his body in an effort to account that everything was there, his face brightens and he chuckles, which slowly turned into a laugh. One, to someone who doesn't know his true feelings, could easily mistake for joy.

The guard rushes over with his gun while speaking rapidly on his radio, "He's awake. I repeat, he's awake." He shakily points his gun through the bars of the cell and looks down, "Don't you try anything, little prince, you can't win."

The boy looks up at the guard, still in shock and slightly shaking, but makes no attempt at attacking or reaching for the gun that he easily could've taken. He's still in disbelief, denial, as to what just happened really did. It's a though he's in a dream that he can't believe is real and doesn't want to wake up. Finally, he says calmly, "My name is Maven Calore, and you won't believe the story I have."

 **Hey guys! Took me a while but here's the second chapter to the story. Hope you guys like the fanfic so far, feel free to leave reviews as to what you think of the story. Thanks for coming back and reading. :)**


	3. Runnin' (3)

"Mare, _please_." Cal begs. The tone in his words tells me he's tired with fighting and just wants me to give in. He's at the brink of exhaustion, we've been at this for the past forty-five minutes and I'm not budging— not on this one.

"No." I reply again, "He's delusional. I must've knocked him out too hard in the arena." I can't even contemplate that we're having this conversation.

"Mare, It's not like I believe him either. But let's at least here him out."

" _Hear him out?"_ I spit back his own words. Maven doesn't deserve to be heard. He used up that right a long time ago when he began to tell lies. "You actually want to hear out a murderer's reasoning as to what he's done? No I'm sorry," I scoff in his face, " _you're_ the delusional one." I'm furious. I don't like the fact that he's even still alive and now Cal wants to suddenly hear what Maven wants to say? _Not going to happen._

"I would've never brought you into this, but he only wants to speak to you. I know how you feel about him."

The words that are coming out of his mouth is just complete absurdity that it makes me almost laugh in his face. _If he only knew._ "Who knows what he's going to try. He'll probably just wiggle himself out of this mess like he did so many times before. You don't know what's he's planning, what he's got in that twisted mind of his." the mere thought that Cal is giving into the enemy is enough to make my blood boil, "What happened to the Cal who only wanted revenge? The one who wanted to grind Maven into a million little pieces? What happened to him? Huh? That one at least had some sense."

"Mare," Cal sighs, his voice growing softer, "Even through what he's done, every through _everything,_ " his eyes seemed to have shift gears as he's remembering the most horrid moment in his life, "I need an explanation." Cal sits down and has this look on his face that reminds me of myself in my most pitiful state. "He's still my brother, and I want to hear what he has to say, not his mother."

His words take me aback a moment because I wasn't expecting _that_. _He must've gotten his head knocked out too._ It seems as though I can't get my point across enough, "Are you still in denial as to if he's capable of such things?"

"No." he says quickly, "Look, I know how it sounds but—"

I grit my teeth, "Lonely boys make _friends_. Isolated teens find a _hobby_. Jealous brothers get _mad_." I'm seething with anger from his unreasonable attitude, "Forgotten kids don't plan out revenges that end in murder!" I enunciate every syllable so my point gets across, he's completely out of his mind. "He's a monster, a sociopath! How can you not see that? _He's his mother."_ I cry out hoping he will hear how he sounds right now. I'm practically screaming at him but I honestly couldn't care less. There will be time for regret later. "Who knows what he would say to make you believe he's sorry? He and his mother are the masters of manipulation, and they have no remorse. Who knows what he will trick you to believe? Have you forgotten what he made you do? Thats the type of person he is."

"I don't need you looking out for me." he says softly. I know that I've taken a low blow mentioning his father but it's all for the best— he'll thank me later.

He gets up acknowledging that once I made up my mind there's nothing he can do to change it, and walks away, leaving an air of unsaid sentences. His footfalls light and quick, careful not to slam the door. That last gesture drives me insane. At least raise your voice, get angry, slam the door, anything. I throw a pillow to where he left. Even in his most irritated moments he still somehow remains calm and level-headed. The opposite to what I am. It makes it seem as though I'm the antagonist, as though I'm the unreasonable one who's too stubborn to hear anybody else's opinions. I hate it. He probably thinks that I'm being incoherent, selfish. I lie down in my bed burying myself in the pillows and blankets as if it can shield me from the outside world.

He thinks he knows what I'm thinking. He thinks he understands me. But no, no one can, for I'm a complicated mess that no one, not even myself, can clean up. I'm not refusing to talk to Maven out of indignation or resentment. Although there's plenty of that to go around. No, the main reason, the ultimate reason, is not as simple as that. My heart pounds at the thought of it. I don't want to see him, let alone talk to him, because… _I'm scared._ I'm scared that if I talk to him, all the things I've kept hidden, everything that I've kept bottled up, will come rising to the surface. That all those feelings and emotions, the ones that have been locked up deep inside me, will be spilling over the edge. My fear is that it will take control of me and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I won't be able to fight it. Then suddenly despite all my efforts, I'll be crying in front of a murderer. An adolescent boy how doesn't the fine line between lying and betrayal. The one that haunts my dreams.

But then another part of me is scared for a different reason. That with feelings of hurt and pain will come the ones of hatred, and vengeance. That other part, the one that makes the most sense, therefore easier to understand, is scared that I might just kill him on the spot before he even has the chance to talk.

* * *

Horrid images still flash every time I close my eyes. Each time I let my guard down they come, awaiting in the darkness for a chance to strike. Looks like that even while sleeping something or _someone_ is out to get me. This time the dream is about Elara, who has miraculously awaken from the dead and has focused on her intent to kill me slowly. She cornered me in my own bed and bore her sharp, blue eyes into my deepest thoughts and laughs at the absurdity she sees in there. With a flick of the wrist she forces me to repeatedly stab myself in the heart. Blood stains the sheets and I can easily recall the heartache, which strangely didn't feel physical, but internal. It was like the knife wasn't made of the sharpened metal, but it was of a thousand painful words and lies. She had somehow forged one out of my most rooted and poignant memories and allowed me to relived it again and again. Each time hurting more than the last.

I awaken in a bundle of blankets and sweat seeping out of my pores. The covers feel heavy on my body and my head aches with agony. With heavy breaths I force calm myself down, repeating over and over that it was only a dream and dead people cannot come back to life. _That's what you think_ , a voice rings in return. I quickly shake the thought.

 _She's dead,_ I repeat, feeling my damp and clingy shirt hug my body, _she's dead._

I slowly peel off the blankets and try to get out of bed cautiously while my heart thumps loudly in my chest. It was as though I was certain Elara could materialize out of my mind and assault me once more. _Maybe thats part of her powers, materialization_ , the thought eases in, _No,_ I try to reassure myself, _she's dead Mare, no dead person can still use their powers._

The cold tiles sting beneath my feet sending a shiver up my spine. I walk over to my closet for a change of clothes and struggle to put on some shoes in the dark. Though barely even dawn, I slip out of my room in silence. There isn't an exact destination, but anywhere other than the once comfort of my own room I guess. I go down to the stairs, one small step at a time while holding tightly to the rail. Everything is chilling, and the feeling that something is out there doesn't easily go away.

After a while I find myself wondering the halls still not knowing where I'm headed or what to do. In my memories the palace is bigger, more extravagant. The paintings rich with color and vibrant in every way. The statues large and lifelike. The windows tall and grand. But now the halls are short and quick, the paints are dull and the statues look unrealistic. The pitter patter of my feet echoes on the walls I'm walking past, then all of a sudden, unintentionally, I find myself in front of Cal's room. If you press your ear against the door, you can hear his soft breathing. I bite my lip to hold back anger. Though this time not those directed at him, but at me. Why must I always fight with him? Why must I always set myself up for pain? Why do I keep hurting myself day after day constantly going mad?

I leave his door, letting a hand touch the doorknob once more and keep walking. By now you can see the sun rising just a little in the horizon. It casts a orange pink light in the sky which would cause most people to stop and awe in the beauty. But I just keep walking. To me it's just a reminder that by nightfall, the dreams will come again, and along with a new day comes new struggles, and with new struggles comes new suffering.

I find myself outside now. The cold air rushes toward my direction, numbing my whole body with chills but I can care less. Maybe I'm being too dark, maybe I'm being non-optimistic. _No, I'm just speaking aloud what I already know._

The dewy grass makes a sound underneath my feet, and the birds start chirping. The sun comes up just a bit more and the darkness that was night is soon fading into a rich navy. It's morning now, and I can see some lights turn on in the rooms. They're most likely getting up and ready for the day, for the new kingdom of Norta. One that is tolerant of all colors that run underneath our veins, a country that will love all their citizens, _equitably. Hopefully._ You never know the real person underneath the facade. The one that only comes out when they're by themselves, alone in their own solitude. The person they are and the person you see are two entirely beings with different lusts and different agendas. Power is a dangerous game, and put into the wrong hands, can cause mass destruction you wouldn't believe.

Some people still resent us. Believing that the hands that hold over Norta should be one of true strength and power, which only lies within those of silver royalty. They will look to Cal soon enough, and demand that he take over. There'll be murder in the streets, blood against blood, each one believing that he is just of his actions, no matter how evil. Letting their beliefs cloud their judgement and allowing themselves to do anything they feel is right for _the good of my people_. They'll be blinded, raising chaos, no knowing what is right or wrong anymore as long as it is for a good cause, _everything is good_. When that happens, the very moment when a person has turned to believe that, is when they are the most dangerous. It is then, when they'll be capable of such acts that it won't be worth telling in the history books.But when they rise up, I just hope Cal doesn't give into the lust of authority. That he will govern side by side fairly with Farley and will not ruin what we had worked so hard to accomplish. It must be silly to think these thoughts, that Cal will take the throne for himself and cast us aside like mere pawns in his grand plan. For it is I, the one person who knows Cal better than anyone; who knows who he is inside and out and just the kind of man he is. I know that he would do anything to keep me believing that. But at the end of the day, no matter my feelings, I have been wrong before, and _he is still silver._

I keep walking. I have a meeting today to discuss land settlements and treasury, _Cal will be there,_ I remind myself. Cal, the one who can barely look at me. The one who's always been there, the one who's kept you safe, the one who only asked for one small favor in return for a conclusion to a horrible chapter in his life and _you_ can't do the simple task of _talking._ I dig my nails into my arms, and my muscles tense up in response.

The morning bell rings a little while later indicating that it's the routine to get up. People all over the capital groggily force themselves out of sleep and fight to keep their eyes open. That's me on most days but today, I'm not where I'm supposed to be. The words in the argument last night come flooding back to me. I know I was cruel, but I also know I was right. There's always that window for manipulation when dealing with a snake; and I can't risk Cal falling for another trap that may end in utter bitterness. But as I keep walking, I see through the mask that were my words. Those words weren't just meant for Cal, but were also for me. A reminder to remember who Maven really is, and to not fall into his tricks like you did before. But have I made a big mistake? Subconsciously, making up reasons why I shouldn't do something in protection of myself, but hurting someone I care all the while? Taking away their last chance at peace just so I don't have to face someone I don't like?

I bite my lip again, knowing what must be done. With a quick shift of steps I head to where I dread the most. Within moments I find myself in front of the arena doors leading to the prison room, and my stomach turns. I want to throw up, run away, but I swallow it down. My breaths are coming out as visible air and the chills flush through me. Inside my chest I can feel my heart pounding to break free and my brain is doing all its best to keep myself in check. I can feel the battle in my mind, fighting over wether or not to run or stay. But if not now, when? When will it end? I need to do this, if not for Cal, then for me. For everyone in this web of lies, who all deserve a conclusion to the destruction and a new beginning at a life we can best manage. We are the victims, and we do not deserve to live miserably in the past. I need this, even if it means facing my worst fear. My hand grip one of the bars, the cold metal stinging my hand. The gate in front of me looks oddly intimidating, for I know that inside that hall long awaits a boy who just as easily can tell a lie as he can breath air.

 **Thanks for sticking with it! Big chapter coming next. Review what you think, I love reading all reviews and am very glad that people are loving the story! :)**


	4. Locked away (4)

**Yes! I have** **decided to have chapter names. (more on the significance of it below)**

I slam on the door to Cal's room. I'm flustered but still in my right mind. I'm determined to make peace and end this once and for all. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this together. He comes out leisurely still putting on a shirt, with an expression that is half worried and half annoyed.

You can tell he's tired and just wants to be left alone. "What Mare?" he asks, his voice still kind of rough. He already knew it was me.

"How did you know?"

"I told you," he replays in a matter of fact tone, "I know you." His eyes are dull and there are heavy dark circles under his eyes. "Plus no one bangs on the door this early," he adds kind of jokingly as a way to lighten the mood. It doesn't work.

 _No you don't._ He doesn't know me at all, no matter what he wants to believe. I don't even know myself. But still, I smile at the corny line. It warms my heart nonetheless, and I allow the smallest of smiles to spread. "Let's go," I say, tilting my head towards the hall and making a motion towards his arm.

"The meeting's not until—" He starts, but too late. I was already pulling him along in a rushed manner, and he lets me. _Let's do this before I change my mind._ He's hustling behind me but doesn't say a word. We're almost at the bottom of the stairs before I even speak again.

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it my way, no questions asked." He opens his mouth. "Ah! No talking." I put a finger to my lips. His arm is still my grasp as we're gliding through the passageways. I must look like a mad woman, banging on someone's door and dragging them somewhere without talking or explaining. Well that's the person I am and if he knows me so well they he should know what to expect by now.

He nods and silently follows quickly. He's confused for a second, but it doesn't take him long to catch up on what's going on. But when he does, he has this expression of gratitude on his face that kind of makes it all seem worth while. _Almost._ "Mare, I—" his voice cracks just a little.

"I said no talking." My voice is stern but I can't help the little smile that formed. The look on his face is a sight for sore eyes, and it creates this feeling in me which I still can't quite explain. _This,_ I tell myself, _this is the reason why you're doing this. For him._ For that very look on his face that says everything he can't. I just hope he remembers this moment in the future. Please remember the lengths I'll go for you, and how much you mean to me. I'm being dark again I know, but if you lived our lives, you'll see the unpredictability of it and how much can change in sheer seconds.

As, we're nearing the gates I feel a jolt pulling me back and I turn around to see Cal dead in his tracks. His face what was once gratified is now blank. There's no emotion, you can't read anything off of him. Which is unusual, considering that it's Cal and usually you can read how he's feeling or what he's thinking like a book. But not now. His eyes are dark and if you can look ever so closely, you'll notice that he's biting on his inner cheek. _He's scared._

I touch his shoulder, "It's going to be all right," I try to give an encouraging smile, but it's not working because well, I'm scared too.

It's funny, the two people on Earth who has the most hatred for the same person is suddenly scared to face him head on. I look around a the forsaken cemetery so cleverly disguised as an arena. It takes me back to the fight, which was essentially an execution, and what I felt as the memory precedes. I can remember blood, crys of pain, anger, and laughter. One so cruel and vicious that I don't believe it came from my own mouth. There was cheering, shouting, resentment, but no words ever exchanged between me and him. He didn't even fight back. In the moment I never realized it, too blinded by the animosity, vengeance and disgust I felt for him. It would be nice to have some of that raging in me now, but all I have is this ache of dread that doesn't seem to go away. What's the difference from that moment with this? Why am I feeling two sheer, unmitigated feelings? I breathe a deep breath; because this time I'm actually talking with the bastard. I'm confronting him, something I never thought I would let him have the chance to do. I haven't said one word to him since the day he threw _me_ into the arena and I hadn't plan to ever since. There are no words you can say to a person that evil who's so far gone that a moral compass for them doesn't exist; but alas, those weren't the cards I was dealt. I had gotten a fainted boy, an estranged brother, and a damaged soul, so you play the best with the cards you get.

I believe that there's three types people in this world. The ones who acknowledge the weakness within them: fear, pain, sadness; and use that to their advantage. It helps them build character, to learn from it; those people acknowledge their weaknesses and ultimately overcome it by accepting that their life cannot go on without the balance of happiness and sadness and grow to live harmoniously with it forever. They are the happiest.

The second person is quite the opposite; so arrogant that they believe that they have no fear nor pain. They trick themselves into believing that weaknesses do not lie beneath them for they are too great for such feelings. Nothing can harm them physical or not, mental or reality for it is all the same. They are the mighty and the mighty do not fall. Those people who can only exist by the mere lies they have tell to go to sleep each night.

Finally there's me, the ones who admit their flaws and deficiencies but cannot bear the thought of living aside such great pain and suffering day to day so they learn to push them away. So deep within their minds in fact, that the memories won't be called upon until an absolute necessity, if can. They will live their lives with a little spot of despair in their hearts that they cannot quite place but is always a reminder to a past, a dangerous one. We are the cowards. Every one of these people are different, unique in their own ways; but all share one common trait: once you lose innocence to something, the bliss of not knowing, it can never be restored no matter how hard you try.

Cal shakes his head wearily, "I need you to promise me something," he grabs my hands suddenly, so tight I thought my knuckles would turn white.

I nod signaling for him to go on.

"Once this is over," he looks at his feet. I open my mouth to speak but he shakes his head again, "No Mare, listen to me," his voice firm but weak at the same time. Cal slowly glances up at my face though avoiding my eyes, "promise me that you'll…" he breaths, "that you'll forgive me." his face contorts painfully for a little before he finally lets his eyes meet mine in a blend of bronze and brown that reminds me of warmer times, the happy ones. Though nothing about this certainly feels happy.

What do I say? Yes? No? Do I stay silent or will that be an even worse response than any? I want to ask what's wrong, what is happening, but we're so far into this mess that there's no use turning back to analyze or reexamine. What good would that do for us, for me? That will only make matters worse than it already is and raise more doubts than those I am already feeling. Right now Cal is the only person I can depend on, who knows my misery like the back of his hand. We share so much and I can't afford to turn away from another person that I trust. Even if that trust is based on me turning the other cheek. So I say what any person would say in a moment like this, I nod my head and softly utter out, "Of course." Though what he does next sets the whole track awry.

He grabs me close and kisses me. Sinking his lips to mine in a motion that shows that he doesn't want to let go. I kiss him back with all the sincerity in my heart and let him take me along with the rhythm. For a moment, a brief moment, the colors around us melts together in a whirlwind of emotion and hue. In that tiny moment is the happiest that I have felt in a long time and like Cal, I do not want it to end. Unfortunately all fairytales have a happy ending. Or in my case, an ending.

"I love you," he whispers so faintly if I hadn't been the distance from him I wouldn't have heard. Our foreheads are still pressed against each other and I know that he could feel me tense up when he said it.

My stomach is spinning in circles and the wind of color instantly dies. I can feel in my heart that theres a pit that's closing in and it's as though my brain has shut down, eliminating any farther thoughts or mobility. The silence is the worse, you can hear when he held his breath in the anticipation of the moment and his heart pounding underneath his wrist. There are only three choices in this moment and I know only one is the right one. I can either say how I feel, say what he wants to hear, or say what I want to say. I went with, "Me too." _I can't tell which one it is._

He nods knowingly and lets out the soft gasp of air he has been holding in. With a small smile on his face, his eyes still glowing, he leads the way assuredly and determined into the belly of the beast.

* * *

We walk in. It's dark and damp just like I remember, and the smell of wet moss is pungent. There's no one at the front except a guard at the end of the hall who stands up straighter and tighter at the sight of us. He salutes and announces our names to the only prisoner there, although surely the most dangerous one.

"Mare." Maven immediately stands up at the sight of me and walks forward to the front of his cell. I take a step back. His voice is deeper, and there's this edge to it, a new edge I haven't heard before. It's as though he's cautious of everything he says, and is afraid that whatever comes out isn't what's supposed to. His clothes are torn and ragged, if possible he's even paler and leaner than before. He's so different from the last time I've seen him. His hair no long glossy black, short and neat, but long and dull, The lack of sleep seems to put pounds underneath his eyes and you can tell how tired he is by the simple movements he makes.

Everyone is silent, looking at each other's faces as to make out how they're feeling without actual words. No one dares start the conversation. What is there to say? I never wanted this. What do you say to the one person who ruined your life? What do you say to the human being you've been running from for the past two years? You don't say anything because they don't deserve words.

Finally though, Maven starts, "I appreciate you coming here."

No response.

He tries again, "I know through everything that you have a perfectly good reason why you don't want to see me."

 _Do you?_

He reaches a hand out to me, causing me to move back in disgust, and he grabs a bar instead, "Say something, anything."

Still no response.

"You don't understand Mare, that person out there? The one ruling the world for two years? That wasn't me!" He looks bewildered, eyes wide and hands griped tighter than ever.

 _Oh god he's crazy._ "Oh so was that your evil twin brother?" I scoff at his useless excuse, not able to contain my silence any longer. He truly is unbelievable. "You expect me to believe that that wasn't you. The one out there killing innocent reds, the one who burned my family's house down," _control you temper Mare,_ "the one who lied to my face for I don't know… _a year?"_ My blood boils, and I don't know where this sudden rush of emotions is coming from. "Then threw me into an arena like I was nothing for my certain death. So yeah, I'm sorry if I don't believe you right now." I try to level my anger but lightning flickers within my veins, yearning to be let free towards Maven. The sight of him breathing, speaking, walking makes me want scream. He doesn't deserve to live, not after everything he's done, not after everything he's taken. "So you better come up with a better excuse if you want to actually convince anyone." I don't expect an honest answer, let alone one. He's at the end of the line, whatever comes out of his now will only be a desperate cry to live.

"Because…" his voice hesitant, "I love you." his tone and eyes seem so sincere, that for a spilt second I actually thought what was coming out of his mouth was actually true. But that was only for a second. I had remembered that anything out of a snake's mouth are lies.

 _I was right, he is delusional._ I laugh out loud because that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Monster's aren't capable of love, silly thing. Is that the best thing he can do? "Oh! Very nice acting!" I let my condescending applaud echo loudly throughout the cells longer than necessary, "But it's a little late for that don't you think?" Electricity is sparking around my hand now, and I let it dance around my fingers. "And besides," I walk a little closer to him, plastering on the smirk I've seen a million times before, " _that line only works once_." That last whisper seems to put the last nail on his coffin and he stands there, looking at me with different eyes with a blank expression. I don't plan on killing him now, but why let him know that? Let's play a little while we're here.

 _Who's the monster now Mare? Who's the monster now?_

"You're different."

"With no small part due to you."

We're face to face now, with ice cold bars separating us. His blue eyes are still blue as ever but there's a different quality to them, like they've lost their spark. They look drained, lifeless, but I guess that's what happens when you go throughout the things we have. I wonder what I looked like when I was in there. That memory only made me bitter. Forget what I thought a while ago about not wanting to be near him, I can handle it if it'll means he'll suffer; and believe me, _I want him to suffer._

"Mare," he's even quieter than before, "please, I'm telling the truth." The lighting doesn't faze him, as though he's welcoming death.

"How can you expect me to believe you after all you've done?" my laugh comes out wry, "You of all people should know that I am not that helpless little girl you met way back when." The lightning turns even brighter with anger let him be scared for a moment, let him feel how I felt when the roles were reversed. "Only you are responsible for your actions, no one can _make_ you do anything. You only do the things you choose to do." Electric sparks dance around my fingers in a display of light projecting off the dark walls.

"Mare, listen to me," his eyes wide. The blueness of them matches the ones in my dreams, which causes me to flinch. "My mother's been controlling me. I know how it sounds but," he looks down as though he's try to find the words, "You seen what she made Cal do, she capable of way worst things and believe me, she wasn't afraid to do it."

I turn to Cal, not knowing what to say. I was right he is a monster, a manipulator, trying to hit your weak spots. Everything he's saying now just proves how right I was about the kind of person he is. The only difference is he's lost his gift of telling those easy-to-believe lies. "Can you believe this? He thinks we're—"

"When?" Cal cuts me off, speaking for the first time since he's got in here. His eyes serious and unfazed, like he had already knew that this was coming.

I widen my eyes, _he can't be serious._ "Are you asking him to elaborate on his story? Do you actually _believe_ him?" the disbelief in my voice is apparent. The lighting dies.

He ignores me and asks again, "When?" This time even stronger.

"You're not serious."

Maven disregards his question and looks to me again, "Mare, I know with everything that we've been through that... It's hard to believe," his grip's strong but his hand is shaking, "But I would never intentionally hurt you or your family. I hope—"

Cal steps in front of me, and asks again louder, " _When?"_

Maven turns to Cal as if it's the first time he had acknowledged him, and sighs, "My mother cornered Mare and I when we were walking back from Julien's, the day Evangeline scrapped her cheek with the spider," he nods at Cal to make sure he's following along, "After she threw Mare on the wall I grabbed her off, which I have never done before." He looks at me causing me to roll my eyes, _Was that supposed to impress me?_

"Get to the point," Cal growls.

Maven starts again, "She looked into my head, saw that I was a part of the Scarlet Guard, and used that to her advantage. She was never truly satisfied with simply being 'the wife', so she took the first chance she could to be king." He ends it with a scowl, one full of true despise for his mother.

Something doesn't make sense, it just doesn't add up. Elara may be many things but she isn't one to hurt Maven, even in her most vicious moments she loved him. He is not the victim, he is _never_ the victim, I am the victim. "No," I say losing the courage I once had, "no."

"Mare..." he says my name for the millionth time today, and looks at me with those eyes, those same blue eyes that haunt my dreams.

"No mother would do that to her own child," I can't comprehend all the things that Elara is capable of, but hurting Maven is certainly not one of them. "She loved you."

"But she loved power more," _there he goes again with those eyes_ , "at the end of the day all she loved was the trill of being in control, being able to lead people to their doom with just a mere thought," his eyes shifted in a way that reminds me of Cal, "she had so much ambition in her heart that it took up all the room to be able to love."

"Stop it," I say through gritted teeth, "stop trying to trick me," I can feel myself get soft but I won't let him in, I promised myself I wouldn't.

"I'm not—"  
"It makes sense," Cal says in the background softly, usually the voice of reason, "the way the blood came out of his face, how there were certain times when you thought there was a change in personality when you looked at him…" The excuses are falling out of him by the second.

"You're crazy," I exasperate, "you're all crazy." I shake my head in disbelief. You have Cal who obviously still cannot let go of the fact that his brother is a compulsive liar and psychopath. Then you have Maven who's always has been good with words, which is exactly what he's doing today. Twisting the letters and sentences until they form to his advantage. He'll

do or say anything to get out of the hole he's dug for himself. _It's only a matter of time before I turn crazy too._ I start to around to leave turn around before Cal yells after me.

"The same thing happened with my mother!" he lets out a heavy sign I didn't know he was holding in.

 _He never talks about his mother._

"When she 'jumped' from the building," he hesitates for a moment, "on her body there was blood was trickling out of her face too, like Maven in the arena."

"A coincidence," I reply nonchalantly, although I know deeply it is not.

"It's a sign of head trauma. The pressure of another mind pressing down on the brain was too put for them to handle after long periods of time, so after it was gone, the brain somehow had to 'reboot' if you will," he made gestures with his hands to explain the concept, "to function on its own again before having the other mind do all of its work." he tried to make it less complicated it is, "That's why he collapsed at the exact moment Elara died, because it was the exact moment Elara's mind left his."

"I could've hit him in the head during the fight,"

Cal shakes his head, "I know it's hard to take in—"

 _"It should be,"_ anger in building in my voice now, "but apparently you have thought about this before." This whole time he wasn't surprised, he even urged him to go on. He knew about this possibility and didn't tell me. He knew that there was a small chance that this could happen and didn't even bother to mention it. Instead he chose to keep me in the dark looking like an unreasonable, stubborn bitch.

"There was a chance that I was wrong, so I made the decision not to tell you in the case it would give you false hope."

 _Unbelievable._

"Mare, I did it to protect you."

"Well that didn't work now, did it?" I look over at Maven who has been unusually quiet, _"You."_ The final betrayal provoked by Cal triggered the animalistic side of anger I've been trying so hard to keep in check. I lunge towards Maven until our noses almost touch, "I don't care what you say, I don't know how you did it but somehow you managed to trick Cal, but you're not tricking me,"

"Mare," Maven starts calmly but I don't let him finish.

"Why couldn't you just die? Why did you have to come back and ruin everything? You and your stupid lies that costed _so many lives."_ This feels strangely more personal than ever, as if it weren't already was. There's something about that last statement that so true it hurts. It probably because in the chaos of the moments _he had killed me too_. Not me _physically_ , but me _internally_. The Mare who still had hope, morality, was replaced her by this person filled with anger and revenge. He had killed the old Mare, and produced a new one who's not even remotely the same. But it seems as though this statement has hurt him too.

"I didn't _kill_ anybody!" He lets go of the bars he's been clutching onto for dear life and throws his hands over his head while walking the perimeter of his cell before rushing back towards the front again, more frustrated than ever. "I don't know what I can do to convince you!" he kicks the bars causing them to shake and ring. His calmness and understanding is over, replaced with pure exacerbation.

"I want to Julien," I spin towards Cal, answering Maven, "Call for him, ask for him, I don't care, but get him here. _Now_."

Maven stiffens at the mention of him, his mouth scowling and eyebrows furrowed but doesn't disagree. He puts into face onto the bars looking at me straight in the eyes, "Fine, call him, but you will only hear what's already been heard.

* * *

Julien comes in with a trail of his yellow robes fluttering in behind him, eyes bright and expression strong. The scar that runs from his right cheek down to his lip is as bold as ever in this light, I don't know wether that's good or bad under the circumstances. He and Cal nod to each other in a way that shows that he already knows why he's here. _He and Cal were in this together._

Looking past me, he makes his aim onto Maven, who's standing taller than ever. He's ready for this, he wants it, and doesn't waver the eye contact once Julien finds it.

Starting quickly, Julien's words liquify into a rich and resonant sound that's like music to any ear. Hopefully this goes as planned. "What is your name?"

Maven eyes go dull and his facial expression slumps into the hypnotized state I've seen before. _"Maven Calore, Prince of Norta,"_ slurs out of his mouth.

"What houses do you belong to?"

 _"House Calore and House Merandus"_

"Who is your mother?"

 _"Queen Elara Merandus,"_

"Has Elara been mind-controlling you?" The easy questions are over.

 _"Yes,"_

I take in a breath.

"When did she start?"

 _"The day Mare's blood was almost revealed."_

Another breath.

"Why?"

 _"She saw that I was in the Scarlet Guard and decided to use that to her advantage."_

By this point I'm frozen with shock, _he's been telling the truth._

"Did you want to kill your father?"

 _"No,"_

Cal shifts.

"When did Elara stop controlling you?"

 _"When she was killed,"_

I twitch with pain.

Julien breaks eye contact for just a brief moment to look at Cal, "You sure?"

To which Cal nods firmly, "I'm sure."

Before Maven has a chance to recoup his actions, Julien starts again, though slowly this time, with a pause of anticipation before he speaks again, "Do you love Mare?"

This catches me off guard and before I can put the thought through my head of what Cal had asked Julien to do, a small word hangs in the air:

 _"Yes."_

* * *

I stagger back, not being able to breath. I don't know what's happened, I don't know what to do. I want to scream out that it must be mistaken, somehow he lied, somehow he tricked everyone and he's actually who I thought he was, but even I know now that that is not true. It's as though someone froze me and took away all my senses and left me hanging on a thread. My mind went blank and every plan planned, everything I had accomplished had been for naught. If anything it had been for the wrong reason, vengeance directed at the wrong person. The girl was here a couple of minutes ago has somehow vanished leaving another in its wake. A scared, helpless person that hasn't been let out for a number of years but suddenly came to reclaimed her empire. She's speechless, breathless, with tears creeping up from behind her eyes though she doesn't admit it.

Cal is handling better than me. At first he's speechless too, but then suddenly, as though every doubt he ever had had been erased and he can breath again. Then he laughs, then he crys, all of this in a matter of seconds. He quickly builds himself back up together, keeping his mind in check for its the most logical thing to do right now. _I wouldn't know._ He's somehow managed to mold himself back into that guy I've seen in the arena, the survivor, and it seems as though he can take anything life throws at him. Well lucky him. It's all too well, all the pieces of his secretive puzzle fits into place and everything had gone the way he planned it.

Where as I, feel like i'm being put underwater with Maven holding down my head. The boy I hated, the one I despised, the person that was the main source of all my nightmares, had been in a nightmare himself— perhaps even the worst one. I blamed him for everything, made him a scapegoat for all my problems, and now you're telling me that he was just another pawn in the game? That he is who you should feel sorry for? No there has to be some explanation, something. _There's not._ This doesn't end like this, it wasn't supposed to end like this. But alas, there's always that small percentage that things won't go as outlined, no matter how precise you made it. I can feel the surge of emotions ticking inside me, all waiting for the right moment to splurge out. Although there are millions of questions still unanswered, and thousands of words left unsaid I don't get the chance to for my legs have acted out before my brain. I dart for the door, wanting to leave the scene behind. I speed past the guard in front of the gates and out into the morning air. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. _I need to._ Maven is telling another one of his lies, his game of internal deception for he is the master of such an art. No, Julien and Cal will find out the truth soon enough, I don't know how, but he must he playing them both, it was all a trick to lure them in before he can crush them again. But not me, I know better. I had played this game before and failed, failed miserably. However, you're supposed to learn from your mistakes, for why play them in the first place? That's exactly what I'm doing now, learning.

I still have not fully fathomed what just happened but I don't care at this point. I just know I need to get out of here while I still can. While I still have a chance to save myself. My mind is running a bunch of excuses as to what I just saw in front of me, not knowing what to believe. It was most certainly all a lie, another manipulation tactic played out wonderfully by the ever so cunning Maven. But what my heart tells me and what my brain tells me are two different things, with only one being the correct response. Wether I'm running away from Maven or myself I do not know. But one thing I'm certain of is the fact that I don't want to be anywhere near Cal, who is not far behind me. He's fast, but I'm faster; I can and will use that to my advantage. I can hear him calling after me and one time he actually managed to graze my arm, which only caused me to sprint even faster. I lost him around the five minute mark when I turned a corner but even so I retain my speed. Why did I run you ask? Why didn't I stay to talk? Why didn't I have a mental breakdown or why I couldn't look Maven in the eyes? Because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't cry in front of a murderer; and Maven is a murderer wether he wanted it or not.

Along with the air rushing against my face, I feel raindrops on my cheek. I don't care enough to brush it off and keep running, but then I feel it again. Suddenly its harder to breath, and the raindrops are coming down in streams. A storm is coming. It was cloudy this morning, I remember. It feels like ages ago, this morning, when I had decided to face my fears once and for all. Not once did I stop to determine if I were brave to do it. Obviously I was not. I just dove right in and took it head on, _like an idiot._ What a mistake that had been. My legs keep moving at a constant pace, deftly dodging whoever happens to get in my way. People jump away from me as I run past, quietly cussing as I whiz by. They must be wondering what or where I have to go that has me going so recklessly that puts them in the line of danger. _Believe me I would like to know too_. Rain keeps on falling and I'm so scatter minded that it takes me awhile to even comprehend that my clothes aren't wet. I look up to see clear blue skies and sunshine. Then where is this water coming from? Where is— _oh._ I wipe at my eyes and laugh; a laugh not meant for joy but for the utter stupidity of oneself. This is a feeling that hasn't been felt in a long time. These are tears that haven't been shed in ages. All of these _feelings_ and _emotions_ were locked up the moment I decided to lock my heart up. When I replaced love with reason, and traded in ethics for victory. For all the better reason too. Look at me here all _weak. It's pitying. Stop Mare. Stop crying._ My nose is stuffing up causing me to breath in through my mouth. _What are you doing? What are you becoming?_ In response, my breath's become uneven and my vision is clouding. I wipe at the tears one my one before they have a chance to fall, eager to conceal my true emotions. But I'm not fooling anyone.

Once again we reached the never-ending internal struggle of my mind and heart, my sanity and insanity, the voice of reason and emotion. I didn't cry when my parents were killed. I didn't cry when Kilorn went missing. Neither did I cry when Bree was crippled. The voice of reason prevented that. I had already anticipated the worst. I knew the consequences and pain I was in for. I was ready. I was ready for the suffering and knew how prepare myself for the worst scenarios to come. _I was strong_. I knew how to keep my head in check and focus on the bigger picture. Why waste a minute of tears when you can spend that minute on something larger? On something that can be changed or manipulated. Maybe even accomplishable. What's done is done and all you can do at that point is deal with it and move on. I didn't let something as insignificant as _feelings_ get in the way before. _So why am I crying now? Why am I wasting this minute and many others?_

Because nothing had prepared me for this. Not a single scene or scenario planned, for this was never part of the grand scheme of things. Hell, it wasn't even a possibility. This was never the worst case scenario, because, well, it was unimaginable. _Take back Norta, destroy Maven, create equality and peace. That was the plan._ But when the sanity within me fails, the insanity takes over, hence where I am now. Helpless, confused, and scared, but worst of all, regret. Had I chosen the right choices? Had I done the right thing or wrong? Did I make the logical choice or the one I thought was logical? These are questions that I cannot answer.

I feel my feet giving way but I keep at it, keep fighting. I'm not going to stop, I'm going to make it. I can't let a simple thing like running get the better of me. There are far worst things to fight for. My feet gradually gain speed. This is nothing. Nothing at all. You had worst. Far worst, I convince myself. _But have I?_ For all the painful moments I've endured, I never cried like this. I never felt heartache like this, nor have I had the uttermost confusion that I am having right now. I let myself go this time. I'm too tired to fight anymore. I can't keep fooling myself that I would be okay, because I'm not. Anything I tell myself won't help me deal with what I am going through right now. I cautiously allow myself to let the tears fall freely and my sobs heavily; to let my breaths come erratically and my feet to slow down.

Enjoy it while you can, Mare. For that's twice now you've cried for Maven, and I vow, that it's _never_ going to happen again.

 **Woah what a chapter amirite? I hope you guys can see why this took so long the way it did, but I didn't want to rush things and not have it come out the way I wanted it to. As to the new chapter names, each name is essentially the theme song to that chapter and relates to what the chapter is talking about / the 'vibes' it's giving off. So for example, "Locked Away" is the song for chapter four because of the what happened with Maven. If you listen to each song you will see why I chose it. Sorry for only starting to do this in the fourth chapter but hopefully you guys are ok with it. Big thanks for everyone who waited patiently and/or been here since the beginning! Once again I love all reviews so feel free to leave some below. :)**


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